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Robert Frost
ROBERT FROST Robert Frost lived from 1874 to 1963 and was one of the most renowned poets of the twentieth century. Throughout Frost’s life, he received the Loines Prize, Mark Twain Medal, Huntington Hartford Foundation Award, and four Pulitzer Prizes. He also participated in John F. Kennedy’s 1961 inauguration ceremony, received over forty honorary degrees from colleges and universities, and earned various other awards and recognitions (Kendall K.). Though Frost did write plays and prose, he is best known for his poetry. Frost is praised for tying in deep meanings to his seemingly lighthearted poetry, frequently about nature (“Robert Frost”). After experiencing tremendous personal grief and loss—including both parents dying fairly early in his life, his sister going insane, his wife experiencing depression, and his son committing suicide (“Robert Frost”)—Frost subtly captures themes in his writing to which all people who have experienced grief can relate. I, personally, have found this style intriguing and have modeled my own poetry after his. One of my favorite things to write about is nature—about blossoms, birds, streams—yet it is always more than just poetically recording my observations of nature. There is almost always an underlying theme, and nature becomes a tool to capture the reader’s mind and senses, locking in images which will help them remember the underlying theme or the poem itself. I also admire his use of rhymes, consistent meter, and more formal structure. I am inspired by many poems written in free verse, yet formal structure is something which, personally, captures my attention, helps me focus in on the poem, and brings about a sense of fulfillment from knowing the author worked around the “restrictions of the rules.” The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by And that has made all the difference. ('''"Robert Frost 1874-1963.") '''Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. ( "Robert Frost 1874-1963.") A Late Walk When I got up through the mowing field, The headless aftermath, Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew, Half closes the garden path. And when I come to the garden ground, The whir of sober birds Up from the tangle of withered weeds Is sadder than any words. A tree beside the wall stands bare, But a leaf that lingered brown, Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought, Comes softly rattling down. I end not far from my going forth, By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower To carry again to you. ( "Robert Frost 1874-1963.") The Tuft of Flowers I went to turn the grass once after one Who mowed it in the dew before the sun. The dew was gone that made his blade so keen Before I came to view the leveled scene. I looked for him behind an isle of trees; I listened for his whetstone on the breeze. But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, And I must be, as he had been -- alone, 'As all must be,' I said within my heart, 'Whether they work together or apart.' But as I said it, swift there passed me by On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly, Seeking with memories grown dim o'er night Some resting flower of yesterday's delight. And once I marked his flight go round and round, As where some flower lay withering on the ground. And then he flew as far as eye could see, And then on tremulous wing came back to me. I thought of questions that have no reply, And would have turned to toss the grass to dry; But he turned first, and led my eye to look At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook, A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared. The mower in the dew had loved them thus, By leaving them to flourish, not for us, Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him. But from sheer morning gladness at the brim. The butterfly and I had lit upon, Nevertheless, a message from the dawn, That made me hear the wakening birds around, And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground, And feel a spirit kindred to my own; So that henceforth I worked no more alone; But glad with him, I worked as with his aid, And weary, sought at noon with him the shade; And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach. 'Men work together,' I told him from the heart, 'Whether they work together or apart.' ( "Robert Frost 1874-1963.") 'Prompt: '''Write a three stanza (6 lines each stanza sets of couplets) poem. Each stanza should use a different aspect of nature to metaphorically reveal a deeper thematic meaning. Works Cited K., Kendall. “Robert Frost’s Achievements/Awards/Honors.” ''MCCSC. Jackson Creek Middle School, 2003. Web. 18 April 2012. “Robert Frost.” Wikipedia. Wikipedia Foundation, Inc., 2012. Web. 18 April 2012. "Robert Frost 1874-1963." internal.org poets. N.p., n.d. Web. 1 May 2012.